SHORT STORIES

Lamina woke in a haze, sprawled on the floor with her bright purple focus pulsing aimlessly in front of her. “What in the deep below happened? Agh… my head...” She spoke to herself, rattled to the core. Her mind was fuzzy, blank. “Why, why can’t I remember...” She groaned, running cloth-wrapped fingers along her temples until she felt a... bump? No, a hole? She winced as a polished fingernail glanced across the culverts on her temple before bringing her hand into view. “Well that can’t be good.” It was not blood on her finger but a black, shimmering ooze. It poured from the two wounds and onto her cheeks as she struggled to her knees, grabbing hold of her lantern-like focus. “How do I not even know where I am, and why can’t I hear him...” She began to panic. Her patron - she could no longer hear him in her mind. The writhing caress she had grown so used to in her hundred years was missing, replaced with throbbing pain. “I... can’t remember his name, even, by the deep ones...” She finally managed her way to her feet. The malaise that plagued her sent her to the wall for balance. For a moment she leaned heavily on the cold brick, cheek pressed against rough damp rock. When the disorientation passed she raised her lantern once more and wiped the ooze from her cheek. She began stumbling up the flight of stairs before her, seemingly drunk to a passerby. “Ahh, that smell! How positively revolting.” Wincing, she reached to her shroud and pulled it over her nose and mouth. Green eyes peered out beneath her hood. Trinkets around her neck played monastically along her chest. “My minions, why are they… ah… very unfortunate.” She lowered her focus, casting a sickly purple gaze across one of her follower’s corpses. A cauterized hole had seared its way straight through him, leaving the disgusting smell of burnt flesh behind. “I must press onward.” Lamina wiped her temples once more. The leaking black ichor stung her eyes as she rounded the corner and peeked through the door to her monastery’s grand hall. “Quickly, gather her books before she awakes, we have no time to dally." An unwavering chide came from the direction of the library. "Hopefully the device has left her crippled of mind long enough to not interrupt the rest of our plans.” Then came the deliberate, evenly-paced clacking of heels as a familiar woman appeared between the pillars and tables, donning a black dress and corseted breastplate. Bodies lay slack at the tables, singed flesh perusing its vile odor into Lamina’s nose. “You wench, what did you do to me.” Lamina cursed beneath her breath, fist clenching in a bright purple blaze before it suddenly went out. “W-what…” Lamina looked down - try as she might, the fire from within wouldn’t come, she couldn’t bring them to bear. It felt as though she had forgotten the way. Then came the pain, overwhelming pain that crippled her, causing her to slump into the door with a thud. “If you don’t—what was that?” The woman stopped. Lamina heard the heel come to a halt before the steel bottom turned in place, grinding against wooden floor before changing direction, approaching. Clack, clack, clack... the sound came closer as Lamina’s head pulsed, ichor still dripping. Lamina pulled away from the door and dropped to the ground, pressing herself against the wall next to another corpse, hiding her lantern beneath it. The door creaked open ever slowly, a sword entering first and then one steel-heeled boot, followed by the other. The woman stood before Lamina. She glanced around before her eyes came to rest upon Lamina’s hooded figure. “I do not recall a second one of you degenerates dying there.” She laughed, twirling in place on the stone. Those boots walked their way over to Lamina before coming to a stop, blade shimmering in front of her face. Don’t move, don’t make a sound. Lamina thought to herself - not for a long time had she felt so vulnerable, not since before her pact. Her mind raced as the blade hovered for what seemed like an eternity before before it drew back. “No reason not to double check, I suppose.” The voice of the woman turned cruel, then Lamina felt the hot pain of the blade piercing her arm. Her teeth grit beneath the mask, but she refused to show any sign of life. “Hmm. I guess you’re already gone, then.” The voice turned away from her and retreated into the grand hall before calling out once more at whatever oafs she had gathering up Lamina’s studies. “How are you not finished yet? Why do I even pay you dotards?” Her voice dripped with venom as the door shut behind her, muffling whatever she said next. Lamina slipped back into the deep dream.